Mass Effect Noir
by K.R.W
Summary: We are more often treacherous, through weakness than through calculation. - Francois De La Rochefoucauld
1. Introduction

* Mass Effect Noir *

Intro

I stand in the deserted nightclub with the epic electronic music blaring louder than the gunshot I just fired. A troop of private soldiers stand before me wearing their carbon-fiber armour and holding their new-age assault rifles. Not a single one of their guns is pointed anywhere other than at my head.

How did I get into this situation?

The broad. The girl who made me trust her – she got me into this situation.

_Remember her_; I tell myself, _remember her face_.

That's when I raise my gun.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

It started with a girl. It always does.

There are not a lot private eyes left in the year 2185 – and certainly none like me. You could say I was born in the wrong era, but I beg to differ. This time is where I belong, because without someone like me there wouldn't be justice. And by 'justice' I mean the specific type of justice that only I can deliver.

Even my office is in a building that was built in 1954, when Chicago was a very different place. Sure, the view outside my window will tell you all you need to know – that cars can fly now and that modern buildings are all tall and sleek and, more often than not, completely white. But inside my office you can feel like you're in a different world.

There isn't a computer on my vintage desk, or a high-tech pistol in my top drawer. No, I like to write my letters on an old typewriter that cost me more than I care to think about. And I shoot people – if I have to – using an old revolver that is an antique by today's standards.

Even my door is ancient and splintered. But the frosted glass is intact and still bears my name in big black letters. I sit there, in my uncomfortable little chair, looking at the letters and thinking about my life. It's a cold evening in late November and I haven't had a case in weeks.

That's when her shadow filled my doorway.

She's dressed in the same clothes as everyone wears these days, and to her the sight of my old trench coat must be like seeing something from a museum. But my shirt and tie are from her time, and even though I can't see the details of her face in the dimness of the room I know that she relaxes a little. She must have thought I was crazy for a second.

'Detective Hemingway?' she asks tentatively

'I haven't been a Detective in a long time, toots' I tell her, 'Read the name on the door again'

She looks to her left at the door she just opened and I see the glint of her eye as she re-reads the name.

'Mack Hemingway' she says to herself aloud, 'Well then Mr. Hemingway, do you mind if I come in?'

'Of course' I say, lifting my feet off of my desk and sitting up straight. I'm suddenly aware of the stubble on my face and the shaggy length of my hair – I hope she doesn't notice.

'It's a little dark in here; may I turn on the light?' she asks as she reaches for the switch by the door. The room is illuminated before I have a chance to give her my response, and by that point whatever word was halfway out of my mouth has gone out of my mind anyway. Because her face is like nothing I've ever seen.

She looks like an actress from one of the movies I own. Everything I've ever seen is usually from the 1950's. Black and white films, mostly stylish Hollywood crime dramas, but this face isn't from one of those. Her eyes are big and her mouth is small, a dainty and porcelain appearance like a doll with striking black eyebrows and hair like black silk pulled into a bun. Then I remember the name of the actress – Audrey Hepburn.

'Well now I know I'm in the right place' she says

'How so?' I ask, taking a cigarette from my silver case and putting it in my mouth

'Do you know how many private investigators there are in Chicago these days?' she says, taking a step forward into the room

'Thirteen' I tell her

'Precisely' she nods and smiles at me. It's a closed-lipped smile that lights up her eyes. 'And only one of them is human' she says finally

'You don't like aliens?'

'I like them, but do I trust them? – Not really' she shrugs and her eyes seem distant for a moment, 'but I have my reasons'

'Please, take a seat Miss…?' I trail off with a questioning tone and look at her expectantly. She doesn't answer right away, but takes her time to cross the room and sit lady-like in the chair on the other side of my desk. Then she makes sure her hair is still secure by pressing her hands gently on the top of her head, and smiles that smile at me again.

'Dillinger' she tells me, 'Marlene Dillinger'

'And why exactly have you come to the only human private eye in Chicago, Miss Dillinger?' I ask, taking my Zippo lighter from my desk and lighting the cigarette. The first drag is always the best.

'I have a problem' she says

'Everyone does'

'But mine isn't one that can be solved by the local authorities or the Alliance Military'

'Really?' I say, 'Well colour me intrigued, Miss Dillinger. And why is that?'

'Because –' she pauses hesitantly 'I'm a wanted woman'

I don't say anything for a moment, just take another slow drag on my cigarette and let the smoke obscure our eye contact. I see her shift uncomfortably in her chair and I know what she's expecting. She thinks I'm going to call the police or an Alliance official, and I'm not sure whether I'm going to or not.

'You're one of Earth's most wanted' I say. It's not a question, because for the Alliance to be after her it has to be something big. They don't go after small-fry.

'Your ad says you deal with off-world cases too' she says, interlocking her fingers anxiously and putting her hands in her lap, 'I need you to find someone for me'

'Who?'

'His name is Valax, he's a Salarian spectre'

'A spectre' I say, sounding more impressed than I'd want her to know. I've always held spectre's in high regard despite the fact that they are elected by governments and councils. Once they have their status they can do whatever they want anywhere in the Galaxy. I suppose I can say the same about myself – but in my case none of it is strictly legal.

'He's a close friend of mine' Marlene says, 'we worked together a few years ago'

'What exactly do you do, Miss Dillinger?' I say, still trying to decide whether or not to get involved in her situation

'A great number of things' she says, 'I was a negotiator in the Alliance Military, then I became an Ambassador for Earth, and then I was hired as a strategist for The League of One'

'The League of One?' I ask, 'You're talking about the Salarian Intelligence Services'

'Yes' Marlene nods modestly and looks at me with flushed cheeks, 'That's where I met Valax'

'Go on' I say politely

'He was one of their top espionage agents, and I helped co-ordinate some of their missions and design new strategies. We became good friends very quickly, and after he survived the attack on Virmire two years ago the council upgraded him to spectre status' she explains. I listen, and as she speaks I feel my resolve is softening. I know at this point that she is trustworthy – and I'm never wrong about people.

'What happened to him?' I ask

'A few weeks ago, when he was on a mission, he sent me a message telling me he'd uncovered something big – something that could implicate the Alliance in a proposed coup against the council' Marlene looks down at her hands and I can see she's scared, her fingers tremble and her eyes glisten with moisture, 'then he goes dark without warning, and not even I can get hold of him. The last I heard he said he was going to Omega to meet with a contact there'

'That still doesn't explain why the council and the Alliance are after you'

'When Valax first contacted me with the information about the plot he thought he'd uncovered he asked me to draw up dozens of theoretical scenarios' she explains, 'I can't even remember them now, but that's not important. Somehow they got in the hands of both the Alliance _and _the council, and it made it look like I was a traitor'

'If they found your, um –' I try to remember what she said, 'theoretical scenarios, then they must have found Valax's messages to you too'

'Exactly!' she says excitedly, 'That's what I thought too, but we always sent the information over secure subspace channels. He's an expert in espionage, Mr. Hemingway, he knows all the best tricks to disguise communication – he even _invented _some of them'

'Could someone have found them on your computer? Or in your office?' I ask

'Not likely' she says with conviction, I can see that she's sensing my growing willingness to help and it's making her open up more. 'I kept all my work in secure encrypted files and deleted them as soon as I'd sent them to Valax, which can only mean one thing –'

'That they were leaked on his end' I realise

'Precisely!' she says, 'I need to find someone I can trust to help me, Mr. Hemingway. Someone who knows what they're doing'

'Then I guess you've come to the right place, but –'

'But you're going to want to know about payment' she says

'Hey, look at that' I smile, 'we're already finishing each others sentences'

She holds up her right arm and an orange holographic representation of a portable computer console flickers to life. This is Marlene's omnitool, and it looks like none I've ever seen before. After tapping a few keys the hologram disappears and she looks up at me from under her dark eyebrows,

'I've just wired a significant amount of credits directly into your bank account' she says, 'you can check, if you like?'

'That's not necessary' I say, 'we'll get started first thing tomorrow morning. I trust you have a place to stay?'

'It'll be compromised by tomorrow' she says, 'but for tonight I'll be fine'

'Okay' I say, 'meet me at the spacedock tomorrow morning at nine-thirty'

'Why?' she asks as she gets to her feet, 'where are we going?'

'We'll start at the place where information begins and ends' I tell her, 'We'll start at the Citadel'


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

I glimpse a shadow of the future somewhere in my minds eye – something tragic and also beautiful. I can't make it out exactly but I can see that it's raining. And there's blood. So much blood.

When I wake up in my grotty little apartment my head feels like I've got a four-alarm hangover even though I didn't touch a drop of liquor the night before. It's the biotics – or rather the side-effects of having biotic abilities.

The woman who gave birth to me was a scientist, and my entire conception was the result of an experiment to gauge the effects of dust-form element zero on a fetus. I was given pretty high doses of the stuff, and even though my biotic powers were pretty useful as a kid I soon learned it wasn't all fun and games.

'You have a rare form of degenerative cancer' a Turian doctor tells me, 'I don't expect you'll live more than five years from now'

Predicted to die at the age of thirty. Life likes to really kick you in the balls sometimes, doesn't it? Well, eight years after seeing that Turian doctor I'm really starting to consider getting a second opinion.

I dress. I eat a bad breakfast of replicated eggs. I load my gun with six shiny new bullets. And then I leave.

The time is 9:01am and it will only take me fifteen minutes or so to get to the space dock. I want to be early and make sure everything's ready by the time Marlene gets there. She really has an impact on a guy like me. Sure, I've been called attractive in my years but I've been in enough fistfights and shootouts that it's taken its toll. Sometimes when I look in the mirror I swear I'm ten years older than I actually am. Maybe that's the cancer – who knows?

Who cares?

The streets are clean and the sky is dark. The sun doesn't like to rise too early these days, and seems to set too quickly too. Those few hours of daylight are precious. I usually sleep through them.

I'm no more than half a step off of my stoop when I notice the squad car parked across the road. I see the green scaly face of a Drell peeing out at me with big black eyes and a smile. I know the face well.

Now is not the morning for me to bump into someone I'd rather not see, but the car door swings open and a few seconds later the familiar Drell is walking across the road toward me. He's wearing an armoured jacket with CPD emblazoned across the front and back and a high-tech pistol is holstered at his left hip.

'Mack!' he says with a smile, opening his arms wide, 'Good to see you, old friend'

'Emol' I can't even manage a smile that's half as convincing as his, 'Good to see you too'

This man used to be my partner back when I was a "real" detective. We worked more than a handful of cases together, but when my cancer got too bad I suddenly found myself unemployed and living off of benefits. Let me take this chance to tell you that this was _not _my decision, but a decision made between the Chicago Police Department and the Turian doctor who diagnosed me.

Unemployment wasn't exactly what I had in mind, however.

Emol gives me a hug, wraps his arms around me tight. Mine stay at my side. I was never exactly the affectionate type.

'I had some free time this morning' he tells me in that husky baritone voice that could send me to sleep, 'I'm meant to be on patrol but I was passing your neighborhood and suddenly had the urge to drop by. You going somewhere?'

'On patrol?' I ask, dodging his question, 'Since when were homicide detectives expected to go on patrol?'

'Since the murder rates dropped' Emol says, 'experts think it's something to do with this Commander Shepard everyone's been talking about. Apparently it's brought humanity together again'

'Commander Shepard, huh?' I've heard the name before but it's all politics to me, not exactly the kind of thing I like to get involved in, 'Never heard of 'em'

'You're kidding, right?' Emol asks. I look at him apathetically.

'I've got to run' I tell him, 'say Hi to the kids for me, will you?'

He doesn't say another word, but I know he's watching me as I walk away. I pull up the collar of my taupe trench coat to cover my face; it's just something I like to do. To an outsider it might just seem like I'm trying to be conspicuous – and most of the time that's precisely what I'm doing. Other times it's something I do without even realizing, a coping mechanism for the fact I've become so much of an introverted shadow of who I used to be.

Eventually I've passed under the bridge just down the block from my apartment building and I know he can't see me anymore. It won't take me long to get to the spacedock but I hurry anyway; the longer I'm left to dwell on my own thoughts the worse I'm going to get. I need a distraction.

But this is my distraction, isn't it? Working cases is all I've done for the last four years, and as distractions go it's been a pretty good one. Drown myself in the troubles of others so I don't have to face my own.

I arrive at the spacedock sooner than I'd thought. It's only a small place but passenger cruisers run in and out of it all day. When I arrive I see that an Asari commercial flyer stands next to a human one. The Asari make for good transports, they ask few questions and keep to themselves. When Marlene arrives, we'll take that one.

A friend of mine works behind the ticket counter, a Volus in a rusty atmospheric pressure suit. His name is Lother – back when I was still a gumshoe for the CPD I busted him for smuggling. He's owed me ever since.

'Mack Hemingway' he breathes heavily through his beaked mask, 'It's been a while since you've darkened my door'

'What can I say Lother? I haven't been off-world in weeks. There's just too much in downtown Chicago to leave behind' I tell him with a smile

'Sure, whatever' Lother isn't in a good mood today, he taps at his computer screen, 'where are you looking to go?'

'The Citadel' I say, 'Even self-employed private eyes need a vacation every once in a while'

I see him looking over my shoulder; he takes a breath and says,

'Evidently'

When I turn I find myself looking at Marlene Dillinger again. She's dressed in a figure-hugging dress in a black and white geometric pattern. Her sleek white high-heels look pristine against the tarmac.

'It's a nice look, Miss Dillinger' I tell her, 'but it's not exactly conspicuous'

'Who needs to be conspicuous with a body like that?' Lother asks with a heavy breath as he deducts the price of the tickets from my account and prints them off.

'Excuse me?' Marlene says in an offended tone, pressing her hand to her chest to cover her cleavage

'Ignore him' I say, 'Volus aren't exactly known for their manners'

'You know, I was thinking last night –' she says, trying to ignore Lother but giving him cautious glances, 'why go to the Citadel? Wouldn't it be quicker to go straight to Omega?'

'It might seem the most logical place to start' I tell her, 'but usually someone's last known location is also the last place you'd find them. We have to retrace his footsteps' I take the tickets from Lother and lead Marlene across the spacedock towards the Asari cruiser. He's heard enough already.

'You think he started on the Citadel?' she asks

'Of course' I nod and catch her gaze for a second, she's smiling and I feel my cheeks flush. As I look away again I'm thankful the collar of my coat will have hidden that from her, 'every spectre has an office on the Citadel. Valax is a Salarian, they're intelligent non-linear thinkers but they all need to have a hub of some kind'

'That's right' Marlene nodded as if she'd realised something, 'he always spent a lot of time in his office at the League of One. It was a mess in there'

We approach the landing pad and the Asari cruiser. There are retractable stairs leading up to the entrance of the ship, I lead Marlene up them – the ascension to the beginning of the nightmare.

If I'd have known what was in store for me as I entered that ship I would have – well, I won't tell you what I would have done. This is a story, after all, and stories aren't any good if you give up all the information at the beginning.

The inside of the cruiser was typical of the Asari. The walls were polished white shining surfaces and the floor was covered in soft royal blue carpet. This was a luxury cruiser and I'm sure my bank account was feeling the affects of the ticket prices. But as I listened to the soft prayer music that played through the hallway I relaxed a little.

The stewardess who greeted us was as typically Asari as the décor and music - a picture of regality from head to foot with soft blue skin and delicate tentacles atop her head. She was dressed in a floor-length stewardess gown and had a smile on her face that had come from years of doing this job – it almost looked genuine.

'Hello and welcome aboard Asari Luxury Cruiser number 815; may I see your tickets please?'

I give her the tickets and for a second her eyes glance at Marlene. There is something in the Asari's face for a second, an expression of what – jealousy? Surely not. The Asari are rarely jealous of anyone outside their own race. But then I myself steal a glance at the woman beside me and I see what the Asari sees. Marlene really is a strikingly beautiful woman.

'Going to the Citadel, I see' the stewardess remarks as she looks at the tickets and uses a stamp to mark the outbound journey, 'for business or pleasure?' she looks at Marlene again and this time the jealousy is more obvious.

'Both' Marlene says

I take back my tickets and the stewardess directs us down the hall towards our cabin. As we walk I find myself wondering if Marlene is aware of her looks. Admittedly the fact she has few curves and a waif figure is unappealing to some men, but her face is like a timeless classic.

'We should try and be quick' she says without looking at me, 'On the Citadel, I mean'

'I know' I say, tearing my gaze from her to read the ascending numbers on the doors we pass, 'If Valax has left Omega his trail will be going cold – but it starts on the Citadel, remember? And it'll be going even colder there'

'Do you think we'll run into any trouble?' she asks. For a second I think she sounds a little worried – or that she sounds like she's _trying _to come across as worried. I can't tell if it's a detective's intuition or the paranoia of an ageing private eye.

'That depends' I tell her

'On what?' she asks innocently

'On how far the tendrils of this supposed conspiracy reach' I say, 'and furthermore, if anyone knows we're involved'

'Could they?'

'How good are you at covering your tracks?' I ask, 'the answer to your question lies in the answer to mine'

'I can be good' she tells me, but then pauses and looks at her hands sheepishly, 'when I think about it'

'Don't worry' I say, 'it's not the first thing you would have thought of. The important thing is that we cover our tracks from the Citadel onwards, I doubt anyone will pay much attention to us until then' we reach our room and I wave my stamped ticket in front of the holographic interface on the door. It turns from red to green and slides open.

Our room is plush, just like the rest of the ship. The mini-bar looks far too appealing to a recovering alcoholic like me – who, I'm ashamed to say, still slips every once in a while – but I remind myself that I am in the presence of a lady, and so I pull my attention elsewhere.

The bedroom is as one with two separate beds, but there is a retractable partition for those who prefer their privacy. I activate it before anything else, and then I take a seat on my bed. Marlene puts her small white clutch bag on her bed and then politely excuses herself to go to the bar. I let her go, knowing that I'll join her later.

'Ladies and gentleman this is your captain speaking' an Asari voice talks over the ship-wide speakers, 'this is just a message to let you know that we are now taking off and may experience some very mild turbulence as we leave the Earths atmosphere. Thank you for flying with Asari Cruises. Make sure to try the bar, the restaurant, and the shopping centre onboard'

I press the button on the bedside intercom for room service, a voice answers within seconds.

'Hello Mr. Hemingway, my name is Elara and I'll be your concierge for the duration of your flight. What can I help you with?' she asks

'I'd like some cigarettes sent up to my room please' I say, 'and some kind of sandwich – anything with meat in it'

'Of course, will our Asari Cruises cigarettes be acceptable Mr. Hemingway?'

'Yes' I say coldly, 'anything, as long as I can smoke it'


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three.

After I've eaten the sandwich – something gourmet that tastes far too good for my lowly taste buds – I take a shower and put my clothes through the automatic cleaner. They'll be washed, dried and pressed by the time I even step out.

I was too preoccupied in my own thoughts that morning to think about shaving or the fact I hadn't washed myself or my clothes in a day or two. When I step out of the shower and up to the basin I feel refreshed and my face looks good. I have a bit of an obsession with films of the late 20th Century and early 21st Century, and when I eventually got around to watching the Indiana Jones movies I was surprised at how much Harrison Ford looks like me – or rather, how much I look like him.

After a good shave I dress in my clothes and finally follow Marlene to the bar. When I arrive I see that she is sat on a barstool with a drink in her hand – something in a martini glass that looks exotic and delectable. There's a drunken Batarian sat next to her, he's talking and she's listening. I can tell from the subtleties in her expression that she's uncomfortable and disgusted but for the most part she retains a remarkable amount of poise and grace.

Batarian's are not my favourite species in the Galaxy. I've had a few run-ins with them in the past, none of which have been particularly enjoyable. They're brutish, aggressive, narrow-minded fools – but damn can they throw a good punch.

I approach them and Marlene looks to me, she seems relieved to see me. I feel flattered even though I know it's purely because the Batarian has been dogging her and nothing else.

'Sorry to interrupt' I say, making the Batarian stop telling his inane story and look up at me with his four black eyes, 'May I sit next to you, Miss Dillinger?'

'I think we've passed the stages of politeness now, don't you?' she smiles, 'you can call me Marlene, if I can call you Mack?'

'Deal' I say, taking a seat. The Batarian's expression has softened from contempt to something like confusion now that he knows I'm already acquainted with Marlene. I think we were both hoping he'd leave us alone but instead he leans in further to make sure I can hear him.

'Are you two together?' he asks gruffly, breathing hard enough that I can not only smell the cheap beer he's been drinking but also what he ate for breakfast

'We're companions' I say

'Of the romantic kind?' the Batarian asks

'That's none of your business' Marlene says coyly, taking a sip from her drink. The Asari bartender approaches and looks at me with polite expectancy,

'A whiskey on the rocks and another for the lady, please' I say

'Not going to get one for me?' says the Batarian

'I think you've had enough' I say. He rises from his barstool so suddenly that if it wasn't bolted to the floor it would have fallen over. Typical Batarian, sticking their nose in where it isn't wanted and then getting aggressive over nothing. This is why I don't like them.

'What are you implying, _grotha_?' he hisses. I know that Batarian's use the word "grotha" as a derogatory word for humans but I have no idea what it means. Marlene, however, obviously does. Her brow furrows and her mouth tightens. She looks at him with nothing short of malice.

'How _dare_ you!' she says harshly, 'You sit here all night trying to chat up an innocent human woman and then have the nerve to use that word! You disgust me, Batarian, get out of my sight'

I'm shocked and impressed by this side of her. She seemed reserved – maybe even timid – but one thing I've learned from my years of experience is that everyone has a dark side. It seems that, when pushed, Marlene Dillinger can become quite the firecracker.

'Whore' he growls, 'you'll regret this'

He reaches inside his leather jacket and I see the butt of a handgun. Before he's even touched it I have his arm, twist it, and kick the back of his knee. He buckles and falls to a kneeling position. I whirl around and grab his handgun, pulling it out and placing it out of his reach on the bar. He manages to land a punch on my jaw and I stagger backwards. The other patrons scream.

Suddenly I feel a kick in my stomach that makes me double over in pain. I start to reach for my own handgun but as I pull it out I feel the Batarian's hand slap it away. By now I've regained my composure and clarity just in time to give him a powerful headbutt. Now it's his turn to stagger back, but he raises his left arm and I see he's managed to get his handgun back off of the bar and it's pointed right at me.

Without even thinking I call on something inside of me that I haven't accessed in years. My body emits a glowing blue aura as I activate my biotics. I use a powerful dark matter shunt to throw the Batarian violently into the observation window on the far side of the room. He bashes into it with tremendous force and his handgun falls to the floor, followed very shortly by himself. He is unconscious.

I feel a twinge of pain in my chest like a heart palpitation and I can't tell if it's from the biotics, the fight, the excitement, the cancer – or all of the above. That's when the Asari guards finally find their way into the room.

The bartender, at some point during the fight, managed to grab hold of a shotgun but clearly didn't have the time to use it. Marlene is stood by the bar looking shocked and worried. The rest of the patrons have all evacuated the room. I don't blame them.

'What the hell is going on in here?' asks one of the guards – probably chief of security

'It's what we on Earth call a bar brawl' I tell her, 'just be glad there wasn't a whole group of Batarian's or you'd have a lot more cleaning up to do'

Two hours later, after some routine questioning and one or two glasses of whiskey the Asari finally let me out of the security office and take me and Marlene to the restaurant where we're to be treated to a complimentary meal. I even get commended for taking the Batarian down. I guess the Asari aren't their biggest fans either.

I take a seat at the table we're shown to by the maître'D and Marlene sits opposite me. According to the security officers who interviewed me she was quite shaken up after the fight. That makes me feel bad, especially now that she's smiling innocently at me from across the table.

'If you just hold on for a moment, I'll get you some menus' the maître'D says, 'would you like to hear our specials?'

'No thank you' Marlene says, 'but could we have a wine list?'

'Of course' the maître'D says with a bow before she excuses herself and leaves

'I'm so sorry Mack' Marlene gushes as soon as we're left alone, 'there wouldn't have been any trouble if I hadn't –'

'Don't say another word about it' I tell her earnestly, 'what happened wasn't your fault at all. He was clearly some kind of lowlife scum just waiting for a chance to start a fight. If anything, you impressed me back there'

'_Impressed _you?' she asks incredulously

'Sure' I nod, 'I thought you seemed quite reserved when we first met. In fact, I found it difficult to get my head around you organising military and espionage operations. I've seen the people who do it – they're forceful, confident, and hasty'

'I can be all of those things' she says, 'but I was born into aristocracy on Bekenstein, taught proper etiquette and raised to become a debutante'

'Sounds cushy' I say

'It was all a lie' she tells me, and I can see that she's opening up to me, 'at the age of sixteen I learned of my parent's financial difficulties. My training as a debutante was really so they could sell me off as a concubine to the highest bidder. I was going to be the highest-class prostitute in the galaxy'

'I'm sorry to hear that, Marlene' I say sincerely, 'it can't have been an easy time for you'

'I never did what they wanted' she tells me with a coy smile, 'I think they were more than a little bit surprised when I enlisted with the Alliance and left Bekenstein for good'

'I'm glad to hear it' I return her smile, 'and that explains why you've got that darker side'

'I'm sorry' she says suddenly, 'I went off on a tangent, didn't I? Well what I was trying to say is that the poised and reserved side of me that you see is just from all those years of training. I'm trying to get out of the habit'

The Maître'D returns with our menus and the wine list. Both of us order quite quickly and I'm impressed by Marlene's decisiveness. From my experience women like to dither about when it comes to making decisions – for the most part, anyway. Once the Maître'D has gone again Marlene looks at me. She's relaxing in my company and that's a good thing. If we're going to be trying to find Valax together we'll need to be at ease with each other.

'Those were some impressive biotics' she says, 'I haven't seen a lot of people who can launch someone across a room quite like that. Where did you get your abilities?'

'That's a long story' I tell her, 'but the condensed version is that I was born out of a science experiment. I never really had parents, at least not in the traditional sense. I see these powers as a curse, not a gift – I was never meant to have them'

'Do you use them often?' she asks as our wine arrives

'I'm not a hypocrite' I say, 'Or at least I try not to be. Until today I haven't used my biotics in years'

'It seems neither of us had ideal childhoods' she says, 'did you ever consider joining the Alliance like me?'

'No, I was never one for honor' I smile, 'I joined a different kind of military'

'Who?' she asks, confused

'An elitist group called Cerberus' I say, 'you probably haven't heard of them. Or if you have, you've probably heard that they're terrorists'

'I have heard of them' she says, 'and that is what I've heard. Is it true?'

'Not entirely' I take a sip of my wine and pull out one of the cigarettes I bought from room service earlier, 'I believe that they have humanities best interests at heart. I just didn't agree with their methods – so I moved back to Earth and joined the Chicago Police Department'

'And the rest is history, huh?' she smiles, and as I light my cigarette she gestures to the packet I'm putting away, 'are you not going to offer me one?'

'Oh, sorry, of course' I say, getting the pack out and handing her one, 'not a lot of people smoke these days even though the health risks are non-existent. I've got out of the habit of asking people if they want one'

The rest of the evening goes pretty smoothly. Our conversation is pleasant but not exactly noteworthy. We talk about our interests and a little about our careers and what got us to where we are. Before we're even aware of the time we realise that the restaurant has emptied and we're the only one's left.

I've had a little too much to drink and decide it's time to turn in. I know that Marlene has had her fair share of the wine but I still don't want her to see me like this. We walk back to our room and I try to hold myself together as best as I can. Walking in a straight line can really be a challenge when you're inebriated.

By the time we get back to the room my head starts to pound and I'm desperate to get to the mini-bar. No, don't worry I'm not going to try getting rid of a developing hangover with more booze. In this day in age there's always a Salarian sobering serum in the mini-bar. I'm dying for that serum.

Marlene goes for a shower as soon as we get through the door and I take the serum. It'll cost me an extra few credits but the result is worth it. A few minutes later I'm not only sober but also fast asleep.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four.

Sirens. Danger.

I awake in the middle of the night dazed and confused. I can hear alarms but they're distant and muffled. I can tell that Marlene hasn't been disturbed by them but over the years I've become very alert to even the tiniest of sounds.

I press the button for the concierge and it takes a few rings for them to answer. Something isn't right here.

'Hello Mr. Hemingway' says the concierge, she sounds panicked and worried, 'I'm very sorry but we're having some… technical difficulties'

'What is it?' I whisper to make sure Marlene doesn't hear me, 'is there something wrong? I used to be in the police, I can help'

'It's the Batarian' she says, 'we had him in a holding cell but he got out. He killed the guards and got a gun – he's gone crazy'

By the time she finishes talking I'm already out of bed with my gun in my hand. I peer around the partition in the middle of the room and see that Marlene is fast asleep wrapped up in her duvet. I'm thankful for that. Her face looks angelic as she sleeps.

'Where is he?' I say into the communication console

'Deck 4 in section X-3' Elara the concierge tells me, 'the last report we heard was that he was holding someone hostage. Then we lost communication with that section'

'I'm on my way' I tell her, quickly cutting the call off and heading out of the room. I check an information panel on the wall that tells me the direction I need to be heading in and then I start running.

As I make my way there I think about how long it's been since I was in a situation like this. 'Too long', my lungs tell me as they instantly start to strain and I find it hard to breathe. If this really were the 1950's like I sometimes wished it was I could blame the cigarettes. But now that they were made completely safe and free of the health risks there was only one thing it could be – the cancer.

The fucking cancer.

The aches and pains that come with having such a severe illness have always troubled me on and off throughout the years but seem to be worse if I'm using – or have been using – my biotics. Well, it kind of makes sense I guess. The cancer and biotics both came from the pre-natal experiments performed on me. They're linked.

As I reach deck 4 section X-1 I find the body of a dead Turian passenger in the hall. The poor bastard probably just came out to see what was going on and paid the price for it. One bullet straight to the head. The Batarian will get more than just that when I catch up with him.

I'm still running despite the searing heat in my lungs and the difficulty it's taking for me to even draw breath. I pass the brig and the doors are open. It's a mess in there, blood on the walls and two dead Asari guards on the ground – he stabbed them and then must have got the gun.

Further still and I pass more bodies. It looks like at some point he dropped the handgun and replaced it with a shotgun. This is a nightmare. I've never seen so many dead Asari in my life. How is it that I could take him out so easily with my biotics but the Asari – who are born with powers like mine – couldn't stop him? He isn't that powerful.

Eventually I'm nearing the far side of section X-2 and I can hear shouting up ahead. When I reach the area I press myself against the wall and sidle slowly towards the corner. I don't want to run around and get blasted away before I've even been given a chance to resolve the situation.

The voices that are shouting are easily discernable. The Batarian is shouting louder than anyone else and the Asari are trying to talk him down. The hostage is still alive, at least.

'Drop the hostage!' an Asari shouts, 'If you let her go we won't hurt you'

'Hurt!' the Batarian replies, 'I can't… think – let me go. Please let me. I don't know what I'm doing'

I'm surprised. I expected this to be a straightforward situation. I thought he would have got out somehow and just be trying to get off the ship but he sounds odd. He's talking in broken sentences and his words slur together. I round the corner after checking that the coast is clear and I move up next to the three Asari that are facing off against him.

They're crouched behind a set of crates that they've used to fortify themselves so he can't shoot them. Meanwhile the Batarian is holding another Asari by the neck; she looks scared and is pulling against his arm.

'What's the situation?' I ask

'Apparently he was fine all night' the leading Asari tells me, 'he was keeping to himself and being pretty well-behaved. Then the security in the brig went dead for about three minutes and the next thing we know the guards are dead and the Batarian has gone crazy'

'How did he manage to wipe out so many people?' I ask

'There's something wrong with him' says another of the Asari that's crouched beside me, 'our biotics are having very little effect on him and he's somehow got himself a strong kinetic barrier. But you can tell he's gone insane, he's not making any sense'

I decide to take initiative and holster my gun, putting my hands up above the crates so that the Batarian will be able to see them. It's an act of surrender.

'Don't worry' I shout to him, 'I'm not going to hurt you'

'Grotha' the Batarian says, but in a confused non-menacing voice, 'did you do this to me?'

'Did I do what?' I ask

'My head feels like it's swimming' he says, 'I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. I'm going crazy and I think I'm killing. Am I killing?'

'I'm going to stand up' I say, ignoring his gibberish, 'I just want to talk to you. Can you stop yourself from killing me if I stand up?'

'I…' he trails off and makes a grunting sound of pained effort, 'I can' he says at last. I stand up and finally get a good look at him. He's sweating profusely and has angry-looking red veins crawling across all four of his black eyeballs. I've seen this before. It's a drug-induced rage called Berserk that was developed by humans on Earth.

Now my suspicions are completely confirmed. This Batarian is not acting of his own accord, he's been spiked by someone – but who? And who's equipped him with an anti-biotic field and a kinetic barrier? That's some powerful (and expensive) tech. Something doesn't add up here.

Just as I'm about to embark on a new line of questioning that might lead me to who's done this to him, someone rounds the corner at the far end of the corridor. It's a female – either human or Asari judging by the body shape – wearing skin-tight black armour and a shiny black helmet.

The stranger throws a gizmo to the ground and a shockwave fills the hallway. Everyone's kinetic barrier – or at least everyone who's got one – flashes into view and then fizzles out. What the fuck is going on here?

Then the stranger pulls a sleek high-tech pistol from her hip and fires five shots.

BLAM

BLAM

BLAM

BLAM

BLAM

I'm stunned for a second and can't tell whether I've been shot or not. The three Asari beside me and the Batarian and his hostage all fall to the ground dead. I can't even comprehend that the bullets the stranger just fired went straight through the crates that the Asari were hiding behind. Everything has suddenly taken on a very surreal quality.

My senses come back to me with a crash and suddenly I'm wide awake and completely aware – even if I don't quite understand what just happened. I raise my gun and fire off all six of my bullets. They sound like a child's cap-gun compared the pistol the stranger holds.

The bullets all reach their target but her kinetic barrier makes short work of them. Emol always told me that as soon as my revolver was put in a battle against modern technology it wouldn't stand a chance. These shields are just too strong for that. So I drop the gun that has served me for so many years and grab one of the high-tech pistols that the Asari had been holding.

I take aim but the stranger uses biotics (Not those as well. Fuck.) to yank me down the hallway towards her. I scuff down along the cushy blue carpet and stop three or four meters away from her. Then she launches a dark matter singularity at me but I use my own powers to dispel it into nothingness. I retaliate with a shunt that throws her back into the wall behind her.

'Felt that, didn't you fucker?' I say. She stares down at me for a second and then takes off down the hallway the way she came. I get up off of the floor and begin the pursuit. I'm not far behind her, but she's firing biotics at me like crazy. I can shield myself from her relentless attacks but she's not giving me an opening to hit her with anything I've got.

'Why did you come here?' I shout after her as I run, 'are you an assassin?'

'No!' she replies in a voice that sounds distorted by some kind of vocoder, 'I came for the girl'. She passes a fire extinguisher and waits until I'm next to it before she pulls out her handgun and shoots it. The blast knocks me to the ground and she turns another corner ahead – I'm losing her.

Back on my feet I start to chase her again, and when I turn the corner I see that she's been ambushed by some Asari guards up ahead. She takes them down with just a few moves of some of the best martial arts I've ever seen, and when I fire a shockwave at her she unexpectedly deflects it and I find myself getting knocked back – again.

_Come on old man_, I tell myself, _you can do better than this_.

She pauses at the brink of turning another corner,

'You can't protect her forever, Mack' she says, then disappears around the corner and she's out of my sight for all of a few seconds. When I follow I see that she's made it – she's won. The door to the escape pod directly ahead closes before I can get there, and launches before I have a chance to activate the override. She's gone.

I spend the next couple of hours answering more questions and helping the Asari clean up the mess. So far this investigation has been far more difficult than I thought it would. I even find myself lying to the security officer in the debriefing.

I'm asked about how I survived, and I tell her that I managed to use my biotics to knock the assassin's bullet off course when she killed the others. And that isn't the truth. The truth was that she could have killed me whenever she wanted, but she didn't and I don't know why. It would be complicated trying to explain this so I don't bother.

Why is it, then, that when I return to my room I feel guilty? None of this was my fault – not at all. Or is it? I must not have covered my tracks. That's how the assassin hunted Marlene down.

I look down at her – still fast asleep and completely oblivious to everything that just happened. I'm suddenly struck by the feeling that she's not telling me everything. She told me that she's being hunted by the council and the Alliance to answer for treason against them both but this woman – the assassin – wasn't working for either. That much was obvious.

Somewhere along the line I've missed something important. I need to find out what that is.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five.

The next morning I wake up to the sound of Marlene getting dressed. I wait for her to finish before I press the button to retract the partition in the center of the room. When she comes into view she looks immaculate with her black hair in shiny finger-waves down to her shoulders. Her face is aimed towards me with an expression of confusion and innocence.

'Mack?' she says, 'Is everything okay?'

I tell her everything that happened over the course of the night, she sits back down on her bed and looks horrified with her hand pressed to her chest. The fear and surprise she expresses seem genuine.

'Who was she?' she asks me, 'and what was she doing here?'

'I think you know' I say

'Excuse me?' she asks, seeming confused

'There's something you're not telling me, Marlene'

'Mack' she says, giving me an earnest look, 'I have told you _everything_. I swear'

I don't say anything back but just look at her and judge her expression. I've always been good at reading people. I can gauge a person's personality and whether I'll like them or not pretty much immediately. More so than that I've always been able to tell when people are lying. It's one of the things that has made me such a successful detective.

But now, looking at Marlene's face I feel like I'm staring at a blank slate. There aren't the usual subtleties in her expression that I notice. There aren't even the small inflections in her voice that people seem to adopt when they're lying.

If anything, this makes me trust her less than if she'd outright lied to me.

I just nod and get to my feet. I don't want to say anything to her. At least, not about the fact that our plot is steadily thickening. A musical chiming to signify a tannoy announcement fills the room and breaks the silence. Good timing.

'Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking' an Asari voice fills the room, 'we are currently entering the Citadel dock and you will all be cleared for departure in thirty-minutes when scans are complete. Please make sure you have all of your valuables before you depart the ship'

I grab the only thing I have. My gun. Well, the one the Asari gave to me as a 'thank you' for helping out the night before. What ever happened to just giving someone a bottle of liquor? Some whiskey would have been nice.

'Mack' Marlene says, 'you do trust me, don't you?'

'Trust is fickle' I tell her, 'I don't count on it in any certain terms'

'What's that supposed to mean?' she asks

'No' I say, 'No Marlene I don't entirely trust you – but don't take it as an insult. I don't trust anyone these days'

When we leave the room and shuffle out into the hall with all the other passengers the atmosphere between us is decidedly frosty. The various concierges are apologizing for delays and disturbances. Funny how they don't mention the one passenger and various security officers who were murdered the night before.

The transition between the interior of the cruiser and the docking rig on the citadel is a bit disconcerting. The Citadel is a massive space station with five arms – all of which have a city built upon them – which are held together by a central ring called The Presidium. Some areas can be just as nice as, and sometimes even better than, an Asari luxury cruiser – but the docking area is not one of them.

High metal girders hold industrial walkways filled with crates and cargo. The docking rigs hold ships that range from opulent cruisers to dowdy cargo freighters. I notice a ship on the far side of the dock with the word '_Normandy_' emblazoned across the side. I recognize the name but I'm not sure where from.

We both stay silent as we take an elevator down to The Presidium but when the doors open and we step out onto the clean white boardwalk with the river running through the middle and the fake clouds overhead Marlene decides to break the silence,

'This is beautiful' she says, 'I've been here countless times but it always takes my breath away'

'Me too' I admit as I take a long look around. The scenery arches up on either side of me so that at the farthest ends that I can see it seems like the people are walking on the walls. Such is the odd perspective of an area built inside an inner ring. It's this area that acts as a massive centrifuge for the rest of the station.

'Now –' I say at last, 'let's make our way to the Embassies, that's where Spectre's private offices are'

As we make our way along the walkways that pass over and by the great river Marlene decides she can't stand the atmosphere between us any longer. I don't blame her; it was starting to make me a little uncomfortable as well.

'I've been thinking' she tells me, 'trying to understand who might have hired the assassin. It doesn't really make a lot of sense, unless the council or the Alliance hired her?'

'No' I say abruptly, 'If the council or the Alliance knew where you were and what you were doing they would have had you taken into custody already. They're not in the business of killing people without asking questions first'

'Then I can't understand who else…' she trailed off, speechless and confused. She shook her head and had an expression on her face of such deep concern that my suspicions were instantly forgotten.

'There's more here than meets the eye' I say, 'that much is obvious. We haven't even started investigating yet so don't try too hard to make sense of it all'

'You're right' she nods and I see that she relaxes a little. We pass by a shop called The Emporium and then across a bridge to the opposite side of the river. On the bottom level is an entrance to C-Sec (Citadel Security); I considered applying there after the CPD politely forced me into an early cancer-induced retirement. Don't know why I never did.

Above the C-Sec entrance stands the Embassies, a large building that houses offices for all different kinds of races and officials. Spectre's offices are located adjacent to the embassy they represent.

In the foyer I lead Marlene to the reception desk, where a well-dressed Asari looks through information on a computer screen and talks on the phone. When we approach she quickly wraps up her conversation with what appears to be a Volus diplomat.

'Welcome to the Embassies' she smiles, 'my name is Saphyria, how can I help?'

'My name's Mack Hemingway' I tell her, 'I work with Valax – he sent me here to pick something up for him'

Her eyes widen for a moment,

'Forgive me, Mr. Hemingway' she says, 'but if you work with Valax you should be aware that he disappeared a few days ago?'

'No, he hasn't disappeared' I tell her, 'well, not unintentionally at least'

'You mean –' her voice drops to a whisper and she leans across the desk, looking left and right to make sure no one is paying any attention to us, 'you know where he is?'

'Of course I do' I tell her confidently, 'you don't realise how delicate his current mission is, do you?'

'I'm not aware of the details' she continues to whisper

'Needless to say I'm going to require access to his office' I say

'I don't know if I can do that' she shrugs, 'it was raided last night. C-Sec have cordoned it off while they conduct an investigation'

'Has anything been moved yet?' I ask

'I don't think so' Saphyria says, 'the mess was only found this morning by a cleaner, they're waiting for Detective Chellick to get here'

'C-Sec didn't check his office when he went missing?' Marlene asks

'I think they did, but didn't think they'd find anything of interest' Saphyria tells her, 'now that it's been turned upside down I think they've finally realised there could have been some valuable information in there – too late, I suppose'

'Saphyria' I say, putting my hand on hers and looking her in the eye, 'it's imperative that you let me into Valax's office before C-Sec get here. I need to make sure what I'm looking for hasn't been taken – the safety of the galaxy is at stake here'

I see her eyes glisten with moisture and she taps in a few commands to her computer. I feel bad for manipulating and scaring her like this, but it has to be done and receptionists are usually quite easily deceived. If I'm lucky then the person who ransacked Valax's office didn't find what they were looking for – I needed to get there before C-Sec take all the evidence.

'I've unlocked his office but you'll have to hurry, I think Detective Chellick is already on his way here' she tells me, 'it's up the stairs to the left and straight ahead – you can't miss it, there's police tape around the door'

'Thank you' I say before I lead Marlene the way she directed us. There are dozens of people of different races and genders filling the foyer and the hallways. Diplomats, politicians, C-Sec and a few Alliance soldiers. Marlene does her best to hide her face but no one's paying enough attention to notice her anyway. No Alliance soldier or council representative would be expecting to find a wanted fugitive in the heart of the Embassies.

At least, not unless they were particularly intelligent.

Just as Saphyria had told us, we find the office with ease. Police tape (which is made of holographic lights instead of actual tape these days) bars the path to the office. If you break the laser your identification is instantly logged in a system. Jumping over it or crawling under it simply isn't worth the risk.

'Mack' Marlene says, taking a few steps towards the doorway, 'I can handle this' she holds up her right arm and her omnitool flickers to life. All it takes is a few keystrokes from her high-tech piece of equipment and the police tape deactivates. She looks over her shoulder at me and smiles,

'It pays to have worked with the masters of stealth and espionage you know' she says, 'my omnitool was a gift from the Salarian who taught Valax everything he knows'

'And it comes in handy' I agree as I step through the door into Valax's office. It's worse than I'd imagined.

Sure, there's the usual damage you'd expect from a ransacking, but there's also much more than that. Valax's work and case notes are pasted over every inch of the walls and desk so badly that you can't even see the key-panel of his computer. His filing system was either non-existent or the person who had searched his office had pulled everything out of the various cabinets and then stuffed them back in messily. It's hard to tell where Valax's handiwork ends and the ransacking begins.

'You can never fault a Salarian's ability to keep everything neat and tidy' I joked, 'I wonder if there's such a thing as a Salarian cleaner?'

'What do you think they could have been looking for?' Marlene asks as she shuffles in ahead of me

'You tell me' I reply, 'you knew him better than I did and I'm sure as hell that you've got more of a clue about what's going on than I do'

'Why are you so adamant that I'm hiding something from you?' she turns towards me and rolls her eyes, I can tell she's close to letting her darker side out again. I'm frustrating her.

'Everyone has something to hide' I reply, deliberately trying to sound indifferent

'Then I guess you do too' she tells me

'Sure, I've got some skeletons in the closet' I say as I traipse the edge of the room and peruse Valax's collection of case notes and photographs, 'I'm not shy to talk about my secrets though – if you've got some questions, ask them'

'Okay' she says, folding her arms defiantly, 'how did you get your biotic powers?'

'Except that' I say, stopping and turning towards her to giver her an earnest look that says "and I mean it"

'See?' she says, 'you can say I'm hiding things from you all you like but you're no different'

I don't say anything at first, just look at the cut-outs and notes on the wall. There are photos of facilities, of wanted criminals, of various mercenary insignia's – and all of them have some kind sign that they've been resolved. None of it particularly stands out.

'There's nothing important here' I tell her after circling the room once, 'not on the walls. Can you check his computer? I'll look through his papers'

'Sure' she says, pushing the clutter off of the keypad and turning the computer on, 'if I use my omnitool I should be able to sort through his files pretty quickly'

'I wish an omnitool could solve my problem' I say, looking at the mountain of papers that are quite literally pouring out of the ancient filing cabinets. We're both quiet as we go to our separate jobs, working with silent haste. Like the receptionist said, we don't have a lot of time before C-Sec arrives.

It's the same junk in the cabinets that were on the walls, all of it had probably once been very important in certain cases but now they were just memories of things that had already been solved. There isn't a single clue about where Valax might be or about the conspiracy he thought he'd uncovered. I turn to Marlene and notice that she's already looking at me. Before I have a chance to open my mouth she says,

'Mack, come here. Something's wrong!'

I hurry to her side and notice that the data on the holographic computer screen is seriously damaged. All the files that had been on there are compiled into one mess of raw textual data and phrases.

'I thought I'd found something in his emails' Marlene tells me, 'I hacked in with my omnitool but then something went wrong and all the files started deleting themselves – I managed to stop the process but…'

'But most of it's gone already' I finish the sentence for her with a sigh and bow my head. I could really use a cigarette and a stiff drink right about now.

Then, just to complicate things even further, Marlene taps me on the shoulder and points out of the window on the far side of the office. A C-Sec car flies past and engages in a landing maneuver just outside the building. This day just gets better and better.

'How quickly can you download this?' I ask Marlene, pointing at the data on the screen

'I don't know – thirty seconds?' she answers

'Do it' I tell her

As she begins the process I sidle towards the door and open it, intending to just peer out and keep an eye on the C-Sec. From the doorway I should be able to lean out far enough to get a good look at the reception desk in the foyer.

As the door opens my hand instinctively flies to my handgun and draws it. I can't see the reception desk after all – I'm too busy pointing my gun at the person waiting for me just outside.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six.

'Emol?' I gasp

Standing in front of me is the Drell that I have come to know and trust over the years. He is standing before me in civilian clothing – a rare sight for someone so dedicated to their job. But here, on the Citadel, his rights as a CPD officer are null.

Before he has the chance to utter a word I grab him by the collar of his leather biker's jacket and hurl him into the room, closing the door behind me. I keep my gun trained on him. Sure, he was once my partner and continues to be my friend but if I've learned one thing from years of doing what I do, it's this:

When a friendly face – no matter how friendly – shows up unexpectedly in an _un_friendly situation, all bets are off.

'Mack' he says, putting up his hands in a declaration of innocence, 'what the hell are you doing?'

'Try answering that question yourself!' I demand

'I will' he says, 'but now isn't the time. C-Sec officers are downstairs and if they find you in here you'll be in big trouble, right?'

I don't answer at first, but keep my gun pointed directly at him. I look to Marlene and she shuts off Valax's computer and taps her omnitool to show that she's downloaded the file.

'Fine' I say, holstering my weapon, 'we need to get out of here'

All three of us hurry out into the hallway but our only escape route is blocked by the C-Sec detectives that are on their way up to Valax's office. Before they notice us we duck into a supply closet across the hall. It's a small space with limited light once the door is closed. We're like sardines in a tin with only the sound of each others breathing to fill our ears.

'I need an explanation Emol' I whisper, 'why are you here?'

'I followed you' he says quickly, 'and not for any malicious purpose Mack, trust me'

'Why then?' I ask

'I was worried about you' he explains – still in a hushed whisper as the muffled sounds of the C-Sec officer's drifts through the door. I can hear them going into the office and then the sound of a Turian as he conducts the investigation.

'You're not a well man, Mack' Emol continues and I wonder what Marlene's expression would be if I could see it, 'it's bad enough that I let you continue doing your private investigations after you left the precinct, but when you go off-world and to the Citadel of all places – well, I worry'

'So you just followed me here?' I say, sounding cold and detached when inside I feel strangely touched by Emol's gesture.

'It's not the first time' Emol admits reluctantly, 'you once told me that without a partner you don't think you would have survived some of the situations we got ourselves in – I couldn't take the chance'

'Sorry to interrupt' Marlene's voice speaks in the darkness, 'but I think the C-Sec officers have gone. We can get out of the closet now'

I open the door just a crack and peer into the hallway outside. She's right, they're all in the office and the door is closed. The police tape has been activated again. Without another word I hurry with Marlene and Emol down through the foyer, giving the receptionist a kindly smile on our way out. She only nods nervously to show that she appreciates the gesture.

None of us utter a word until we're safely away from the embassies and walk amongst the crowds of people in a market district.

'You two clearly have some things to discuss' Marlene says, 'maybe I should look at the data we recovered while you talk?'

'Not yet' I say, 'there's something important in that data – I just know it. Besides, Emol's got a good eye for these things, he can help'

'I can't help if I don't know what's going on Mack' he complains

'Fine' I say as I spy a discreet café just up the path a little, 'let's sit down in there and I'll tell you everything'

We all head into the café and find a secret booth where we can all sit and talk undisturbed. Marlene tries to excuse herself to go over the data again, but I know I'll need her help to fill in the blanks to Emol – I'm terrible at explaining things on my own.

Together we spend the better part of two hours going over everything we've been through, telling each detail with complete specificity. Not only am I sure that a fresh perspective could help us, but I'm also using this as a test. If Emol isn't to be trusted then our unforeseen enemy will now have information only he could divulge.

'Looks like you've got yourself knee-deep in shit this time, Mack' he sighs once we've finished telling him the story, 'I don't even know if I can make heads or tails of this'

'Come on Emol' I tell him, 'we've been in worse situations than this, right?'

'Wrong' he says bluntly, 'you're up against the Alliance, the Council, an assassin… what else, Mack? You seem to be pissing everyone off these days'

'Emol' I say, giving him a solemn look, 'give me a different viewpoint here. Show me something I missed'

'You want my honest opinion?' he says

'I think that's what he's been asking for this whole time' Marlene says, sounding slightly irritated – though I don't notice.

'Fine' Emol says, narrowing his gaze at her, 'I think you're both a pair of morons for not going straight to Omega'

'But…' I start to talk but he cuts me off

'Let me guess?' he says, 'you're doing that thing where you retrace their footsteps from the beginning, right?'

'You say that like it's a bad thing' Marlene says

'It's something we've always agreed to disagree on' I tell her, 'Emol thinks it's a waste of time'

'And isn't it?' he laughs, 'what exactly have you found here Mack? A few computer files that have been mostly destroyed?'

'Open the file' I say to Marlene, trying to ignore Emol's overwhelming pessimistic attitude, 'there might be something worth looking at in there'

She does as she's told, but seems almost reluctant to do so. It's either reluctance or just that she feels awkward around me and Emol. Yeah, so we argue – but what's a good friendship without a little disagreement? Besides, I wouldn't like it if he always agreed with me. It wouldn't give me any chances to prove him wrong.

The file opens and at first it's impossible to even discern any words or phrases. Soon they start becoming easier to see. The omnitool auto-scrolls from top to bottom a line at a time, but there are so many lines and characters it's still too difficult to make any sense out of it all.

'Can you send it over to my omnitool?' Emol asks Marlene, 'I have a very good decryption program on here that should help'

They exchange the information and within a few minutes Emol's decryption program is trying to decipher what it considers to be useful or important information. Random fragments of compiled text pop up in holographic screens as the decryption process works its way through the raw data. Marlene's name appears a few times but always on its own and not as part of a phrase or sentence.

Everything else seems mundane and I'm beginning to think Emol was right. Maybe this trip to the Citadel was pointless after all. Then a text box appears with something written in it that catches my attention.

'There!' I say suddenly, pointing at the holographic screen

'What does it say?' Emol squints at the words

'Omega… Professor Zorak… Biotics Research Corporation' Marlene reads, 'does that mean something to you?'

'Damn right it does' I say, 'the Biotics Research Corporation are the reason I have these damned powers in the first place'

'I've never heard of them' Marlene says, 'where do they operate?'

'They used to operate out on Bekenstein and Earth' I tell her, 'but the company was shut down about twenty years ago because of their illegal testing on live human subjects'

'So that's how you…' Marlene starts to ask, but abandons the question halfway through when she remembers I told her I wasn't too happy to talk about it.

'Not to sound like a stick in the mud' Emol smirks, 'but couldn't you have found this out if you'd just gone straight to Omega?'

'Shut your mouth, Emol' I growl angrily even though I know he's right, 'let's just get the hell out of here, and make it quick. I want to know what the hell is going on around here'

Once we're on our feet again Emol takes charge, he directs us to one of the dozens of docking rigs in the lower reaches of The Citadel and talks to various people that we pass in order to ensure a safe passage for us. I don't know what he was before he was a police officer but Emol knows things that normal officers don't know. Getting from one place to another without being followed or arousing any unnecessary suspicions is one of those many hidden talents.

'Mack, I'm sorry' Marlene says, 'I feel like I've created all of this…'

'You've created nothing' I tell her, 'you hired me to do a job and you paid handsomely. I'm just seeing this thing through to the end'

'So that's all this is? A job?' she asks. At first I think she's accusing me of not caring enough about her plight, but the tone of her voice and expression on her face say something different. She's testing to see if I'm in this for personal reasons – but why? I don't have much reason to be except that I'm beginning to like Marlene.

Well, that and the small coincidence of the Biotics Research Corporation perhaps somehow having a part in this. But I can't even be sure of that. The name of the company was plucked randomly from a mess of data that probably dated back through years of case notes and investigations. The likelihood of Valax's inquiries into the BRC being connected to Marlene's situation was slim at best.

So why couldn't I shake the terrible feeling in the back of my mind?

I realise I've stayed quiet for a long time – long enough that Emol seems to have secured passage for us. Marlene is still looking at me expectantly, awaiting my answer to her question.

'The truth is that I probably care more than I should' I tell her, keeping my gaze away from hers, 'and for more reasons than one'

'Meaning?' she asks with a hint of hopefulness in her voice. I just shrug and shake my head. She breathes a heavy sigh and walks ahead of me with a dejected posture.

Sure, I've not been with a woman in a long time – but I'm not an idiot either. Marlene has started to develop feelings for me the same way I'm developing feelings for her. Both of us are too cowardly to admit it to one another. I remember being young and full of aspirations, so sure that when I got older it would be easier to talk to women. Here I am, over ten years on and I'm still waiting for it to get easier.

Maybe I should just tell her how I feel? Then again, maybe not.

We step onto the ship, a Function Ship. It's a small craft of human design meant for short-distance journeys. The whole purpose is that you can have parties aboard one, maybe get married, or perhaps just celebrate your retirement – all under the impressive view of a sprawling nebula or a sea of gleaming stars.

It's all just romanticized nonsense to me.

'I've got us in under one of the parties' Emol tells me, 'we're part of a wedding reception – it's a huge party that's taking up two of the function halls so we should blend in no problem. They're stopping off at Omega so the happy couple can switch ships and start their honeymoon'

'Funny place to switch ships' I comment, 'there used to be a time when humans were too scared to go anywhere near Omega. It seems the criminal underworld is losing its ability to intimidate the innocent'

'I think it has been for years' Emol shrugs, 'but can you blame people for caring so little about petty criminals these days? There are much worse things to be scared of out in the void'

Marlene reaches the entrance to the ship and turns to give me a glance over her shoulder. Something in her eyes fills me with a cold feeling, but I can't tell why.

'Yeah' I reply to Emol, 'tell me about it'

MORE COMING SOON . . .


End file.
